Safe and Sound
by fact-and-fiction
Summary: "I don't know any lullabies," I finally replied. She surprised me again by saying, "But you do." The night before the reaping. One-shot.


**Three more weeks! Give or take a few days. Still. I am SO EXCITED!**

**I've always loved Taylor Swift, and I also love The Hunger Games, so imagine my happiness when these two came together. I love the song 'Safe and Sound' featuring The Civil Wars, and how much it fits with THG. I keep wondering where they'll place it in the movie, and althought I suppose it would fit with Rue's scene, or the cave, I can't help but also think it would fit with Prim and Katniss. So here it is!**

**It's tweaked from the beginning, and few things I added in myself, so...**

**Disclaimer: If the Hunger Games is mine, I would rewrite Mockingjay. And in the important yet missing details. Safe and Sound isn't mine either.**

I could hardly sleep. It's not the stickiness of the sheets that cling to me, or the fact that my name is in the lottery twenty times more than any of the other kids that are not from the Seam should have. It's the awful reminder that tomorrow would be the reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and chances are a little bit higher than last year that I might not see my family again.

I try not to worry about Prim. She's so fragile for her age that I wonder whether she and mother would survive had I not been able to hunt and feed us almost daily.

I closed my eyes and shook away the thought. _I'll be fine. I would not leave Mother and Prim. There are others from the Seam that..._ That would have to serve the Capitol. That would be forced to leave their family. That would have to join the Hunger Games, kill other tributes on live television, and possibly have their deaths broadcasted to all the districts in Panem.

My earlier lunch of the little that we could salvage of yesterday's goose meat threatens to get out of my throat, but I manage to hold it off. Swallow it. Take deep breaths. Think of something else.

Out of habit, my eyes shift to Prim, and I'm surprised to see her wide awake, gaze unwavering, straight at me as I recompose myself.

"Couldn't sleep?" I whisper softly to her.

She shook her head, the moonlight casting a shine to her blonde locks. Without hesitation, I patted the space next to me, and she gently padded her way from mother to my side.

She tucked her feet close to her small frame, and snuggled closer. I carressed her hair with my finger tips, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Her voice came out as a small whimper as she admitted, "I'm scared, Katniss."

I pressed my lips to her forehead as I reassured her. "It's your first time, Prim, don't worry. They won't pick you."

"Maybe. But what if they pick you?" she pulled her head back, away from my chin, and I see her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Oh, Prim," was all I said as I pulled her to me again, repeatedly brushing her arm and soothing her. The intervals between her snifflings were more distant now, and I could sense her gradually calming down.

"Katniss?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you sing for me?" my hand that was stroking her head paused momentarily, and then continued. "What do you want me to sing?" I ask her, unsure. I haven't really sung in a while. I think that a few years hardly even counts for a while. More like in a long time.

"Sing me a lullaby," she answered after thinking about it for a few seconds.

I searched my brain for a moment. There were a couple of songs that I learned from my father since I was young; he loved to sing, and the birds loved to listen to him. When he sings, it was like the whole world just faded away. Yet I don't think singing about hanging trees would be appropriate, and it really has been such a long time.

"I don't know any lullabies, " I finally replied.

She surprised me again by saying, "But you do."

"Which one?"

"The one that mother used to sing."

My mind went blank, and all I thought was that mother never sang. It was always our father, it was always him that would whisle a tune as he went to work at the mines, him that would teach us how to sing a children's song. But slowly, I started to remember. It was right after we found out that her husband and our father wasn't there anymore, and right before she went into her state of withdrawal.

Right after someone sent us home, I faintly remember him as one of the people that my father worked with, when the truth had finally hit me.

He's gone.

Gone was the person that would lovingly hold me while singing me to sleep, gone was the person that would show me the beauty in everything when everything seemed bleak, gone was my father that was my companion.

He's gone.

For the first and last time, that night I broke down. I sobbed and wailed and cried and grieved. All the while, Prim clung to me, and our mother held us shakily.

After my tears stopped, and my eyes dried out, and I was a slobbering, hiccuping mess, mother's voice rang to me, clear and unwavering. Her voice was beautiful, and just before I fell asleep that night, I wondered if that was why my father fell in love with her in the first place.

Even after all these years, I remember the song perfectly in my head. But I am reluctant to sing it. Because although, yes, the melody is soothing, yet the cold, harsh truth and also the lies in it are not.

"Please, Katniss? For me?"

So I sing. Softly, at first, just like how mother started it.

_"I remember tears streaming down your face _

_when I said I'll never let you go. _

_When all those shadows almost killed your light. _

_I remember you said, 'Don't leave me here alone,'_

_When all that's dead and gone and passed tonight."_

I pause, and swallow the lump in my throat as I sing out the illusions.

_"Just close your eyes,_

_The sun is going down._

_You'll be all right,_

_No one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light, _

_You and I'll be safe and sound."_

And again, the bitter truth worms in.

_"Don't you dare look out your window, _

_Darling, everything's on fire._

_The war outside our door keeps raging on._

_Hold on to this lullaby_

_Even when the music's gone... Gone..."_

Prim's breathing was rthymic now, steady. I start to end it.

_"Just close your eyes. _

_You'll be all right. _

_Come morning light, _

_You and I'll be safe and sound."_

She didn't wake up again for the entire night, and although the song was filled with false promises, I can't help but think it is a promise to her. If I had known what would happen the next day, I wouln't have sung it to her at all.

**Like? Review :)**

**-NK**

**P.S. To those who read my HP/PJ crossover- I'm so sorry, and please wait a little bit longer! Inspiration just struck!**


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